Settling Dust
by CatS81
Summary: Left alone on Waterloo Bridge, Boyd and Grace reach a breakthrough of sorts...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Waking the Dead' or any of its characters, the BBC has that honour – I'm just taking them out to play for a bit.

**Pairing**: Boyd/Grace.

**Content**: Angst, Friendship, Fluff, Romance.

**Rating**: T; for language.

**Spoilers**: S9, 'Waterloo' and speculative for the spin-off series, 'Body Farm'.

**A/N**: Okay, so I know everyone is doing this at the moment but I just couldn't help myself! This is my version of what happened at the end of 'Waterloo', directly after the final scene. Gemenied & Shadowsamurai83 – does my one line about driving into the sunset count towards the challenge? ;)

Apologies to anyone awaiting an update for 'Ebb & Flow' – I'm working on it, I promise!

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><p>The night was almost breathtaking in its stillness, unapologetic in its serenity, the lapping waters of the Thames blissfully unaware of the events which had occurred upon its banks some thirty years previously and a mere thirty minutes ago in its recent past. Grace Foley stood beneath the bridge and sighed softly into the twilight, the spring wind cool against her hands as she clasped them together over the barrier, her thoughts a paradoxical blending of the past and the present as she considered the events of the previous few days. They had solved the case, identified the killer but the victory tasted bittersweet in her mouth, hollow in her stomach with the knowledge that the team was to be irrecoverably altered from the present time forward. She felt the breath escape her body once more as she fought to control the torrent of anguished emotion swirling violently in her chest; Sarah's death had been shocking in its brutality, the younger woman's betrayal paling into insignificance beneath the impact of her untimely demise, her death compounding the sorrow which had cast its shadow over the team the moment Peter Boyd had announced his forced and imminent departure. They had somehow managed to draw on their reserves of strength, of tenacity to reach a positive conclusion to the case and Grace found that she was immensely proud of their communion, of the combination of their complementary skills to ensure that justice, however unorthodox, had been served.<p>

The four remaining members of the Cold Case Unit had stood together one final time beneath Waterloo Bridge mere moments ago, their collective mood surprisingly and unexpectedly buoyant despite the tumultuous events of their recent past and Grace had felt her heart swell with fondness as she allowed her mind to wander retrospectively over the nine years she had spent happily confined in a basement office in one of the Metropolitan Police's least salubrious buildings. The sentimentality had been short-lived, she mused as she glanced sideways towards her companion, the overriding sense of bitter disappointment that their time together was at a premature end reasserting itself firmly as she noted his sombre expression, the tension palpable across his broad shoulders, the uncertainty radiating from his charcoal eyes.

"You okay?" she asked gently, finally breaking the silence that had elongated throughout the minutes since they had been left alone by the two junior members of the squad on the pretext of reserving a table at a nearby curry house.

Peter Boyd sighed heavily, the position of his body a reflection of hers as he leant back against the barrier to the water, one hand reaching up to caress the taut muscles at the back of his neck. "Just...still processing it all, you know?"

Grace nodded slowly, empathetically. "It's a lot to come to terms with. It'll take time."

He snorted contemptuously. "Which seemingly I'll have nothing but infinite amounts of from now on."

"I take it you turned down the teaching post, then?" She raised an apologetic palm as he looked at her derisively, his expression withering with his disapproval. "Sorry."

"You didn't really have to ask, did you?"

"Well, it's not a good idea to burn bridges, Boyd, is it?"

"Isn't it?"

"Generally speaking."

"Yeah, well...I told them to shove it up their arses. So I think that's one bridge burnt to an absolute bloody crisp, don't you?"

She smiled, amusement lacing her delicate features. "It's probably for the best, actually. I'm not sure the next generation of coppers would be able to handle you."

"It'd be a guaranteed recipe for high blood pressure and an early grave. For me, as well as them."

She felt her smile broaden briefly before it disappeared once more, the stark reality of his situation sobering her instantly. "So, seriously, Boyd; what _are_ you going to do?"

"Once the dust settles, you mean?"

"Yeah."

His responding sigh was oppressive. "Christ knows."

She took a breath, aware that she was headed for potentially dangerous territory. "Can I offer you my professional opinion?"

He glanced at her sideways, pre-empting her words as they formed in his head, forcing away the pleasant notion of being able to read her mind as clearly as she could read his. "You're going to tell me to see a shrink."

"I think it would be prudent." She inclined her head in assent, his perceptiveness at her unspoken intention not surprising her. "You've been through so much over the past few years, Boyd, so much you haven't dealt with properly or come to terms with, it would be..."

"So make me a recommendation, then."

Grace felt her mouth fall open of its own accord, shock pervading her senses at his instantaneous and uncharacteristic acquiescence. "You, what?"

He grinned boyishly. "You were preparing a speech then, weren't you?"

"I thought I'd have a job convincing you based on your track record, yeah."

His smile faded, the light slowly extinguishing from his eyes as he leant further against the barrier, his head falling backwards as he blinked towards the stars. "Maybe it's about...finally accepting that I need to gain some perspective, some...help in sifting through all the crap."

"Well, good. I think that's the most positive thing I've ever heard you say in regards your mental health."

"I'm not in denial anymore, then?"

She blinked, feeling her heart constrict as she looked at him, remnants of their most embittered historical argument searing painfully through her soul. "You're certainly making progress," she replied evenly. "And a therapist will help you even more in that regard."

"As well as eating away a significant chunk of my pension, no doubt."

"It'll be money well spent."

"Well, just make sure you recommend a relatively cheap one, won't you, Grace?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm not sure I know any cheap ones."

"Excluding yourself, of course?"

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "It's been years since I did that kind of work. And even if I did, it would hardly be appropriate."

He relented instantly, at once no longer having the strength to maintain their well-defined and deeply ingrained banter. "No, I know."

"So, you'll see someone, then? And promise to leave your hardened scepticism at the door?"

"I know full well when I'm beaten, Grace. Set it up and I'll be there."

"Good."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence then, neither feeling compelled to speak further, content to enjoy the rhythmical movements of the water and the warm proximity of each other's body. After several moments Boyd took a breath, feeling her shift slightly at his side in anticipation of his address.

"So I'm going to make a recommendation for Spence to take over the Unit," he said quietly, a mixture of pride in the younger man and regret lacing his tone as the reality of his enforced exit reasserted itself unbidden.

Grace gave a small smile. "I'm sure he'll be flattered; and he's more than ready for it."

"I just hope the brass see it that way."

"Will it mean they'll have to promote him?"

"Undoubtedly. They won't want a lowly DI in a position of such authority."

"Do you think it's likely?" She held up a palm as he began to bristle. "That wasn't a slight against Spence, Boyd. God knows he should've been made a DCI years ago."

"Yeah."

"But you're worried that his loyalty to you might be used against him."

He sighed heavily, his shoulder brushing hers. "I hope to hell it won't be. But I wouldn't put it past those bastards in the upper echelons, no."

"Would it help if Eve and I added our support, do you think?"

He blinked, surprised at her words. "Hasn't Eve spoken to you?"

"About?"

"Grace..."

The profiler surrendered instantly beneath his groan of weary frustration. "She has. But she also asked me not to say anything until she'd spoken to you."

"Yeah, well...I don't suppose she'll hesitate on taking the Home Office up on their offer after all that's happened now."

"I wouldn't be at all surprised." She inclined her head. "To be fair, Boyd, it sounds like an amazing opportunity for her; funded research at the Body Farm...Something like that isn't likely to come along again."

He gave a conciliatory grunt. "So it looks like it might just be you and Spence from now on, then. At least until the brass appoint some lower order ranks to join you."

"Hmm."

He felt himself frown deeply as she averted her gaze, her attention deliberately refocusing towards the rippling waters of the river, pointedly directed away from him, and he felt anxiety grip his nerve-endings as he caught the sudden tension in her posture.

"Grace?" he prompted after several more seconds had passed in silence, watching her as she blinked slowly back to alertness.

"What?" she replied, her tone one of quietly deliberate evasion.

"What aren't you saying?"

She suppressed a sigh beneath the intensity of his scrutiny. "How do you mean?"

"Stop holding back. We're way beyond that crap, aren't we?"

She felt her sigh deepen at the exasperated edge to his voice. "I don't want to compound things, Boyd, alright?"

"But...?" He exhaled loudly in frustration at her lack of elaboration. "Jesus Christ, Grace..."

"Nothing's set in stone...but..."

He felt his vision clear suddenly as her words permeated the air, his heart plummeting through his stomach. "You're thinking of retiring."

She smiled wryly at the accuracy of his assumption, ignoring the despondency in his tone. "I'm not getting any younger."

"Neither is Spence. Neither am I, for God's sake."

She raised her eyebrows at his barely contained disapproval. "What would you have me do, Boyd? Continue on going until they carry me out in a box?"

He was unable to prevent a smile. "Well, that was more or less my plan until all this kicked off, Grace. I just assumed..."

"That I was as insanely committed to my work as you are?"

"No, but...You're saying it'll just leave Spence..."

Realisation settled at once in her consciousness. "Ah; and you're afraid you wouldn't be able to influence him so easily, even from afar."

"I can't influence you, can I, or am I missing something?"

"I'm saying that you were probably still planning on keeping your ear to the ground as far as the Unit's concerned. That'd be easier if you had both of us to report back to you, rather than just Spence."

"I would never ask you to compromise yourselves, you _know_ that..."

"I don't mean as your spies...But come on, Boyd...I don't think you'd be able to leave it alone, do you?"

He sighed noisily. "I just don't want you to give up your career...in some misguidedly noble but unnecessary gesture of support, that's all. I'll be fine, Grace."

"It's not about that. I've been thinking about it for a while, even before all of this." She paused, internally debating the wisdom of her proceeding words. "Admittedly this has kind of precipitated things a bit. Brought into focus how I want to spend my twilight years."

"Hmm. I guess murder and police corruption will do that."

"Yeah. So retiring somewhere warm seems like the perfect antidote for all the pessimism."

Boyd raised his eyebrows, her words sending unexpected stabs of anguish to his stomach. "You'd go abroad?"

She shrugged half-heartedly. "My kids have all flown the nest now, with lives and jobs and children...They don't need me physically anymore and I...Well, I finally feel like I can please myself, you know? Take my life in an entirely new direction and not feel beholden to anything..."

"Or any_one_."

"I didn't say that."

He allowed her words to settle, the discomfort in his gut multiplying against his will and combining unpleasantly with an irascible surge of jealousy. "So you're not talking about going alone, then? I hadn't realised you were…."

"What?"

He shook his head firmly, trying to disperse the cloud of disappointment that was suddenly, oppressively cloaking his shoulders. "It's none of my business."

She blinked, astonished at the barely concealed bitterness to his tone. "You think I'm seeing someone? That I'm talking about selling up and flitting off to the sun with…."

He held up a defensive palm to stem her flow. "As I said, Grace; none of my business."

"Almost ten years together, surely you know me better."

"It's not about that." He frowned, unsure of the direction their conversation had taken of its own accord. "What would be so wrong with it?"

"What?"

"You, driving off into the sunset, settling down to retirement, being…" He grimaced. "…that word beginning with 'h' that I can't quite bring myself to say."

Grace smiled and rolled her eyes. "Happy?"

"If you must."

She sighed, the smile fading instantly from her lips. "Nothing's wrong with it."

"And it's all the better if you don't have to do it alone, surely?"

"Of course."

"So, there you go. I hope it all works out for you."

She stifled a frustrated sigh as they lapsed into silence once more, the tension between them palpable, tangible as she pondered the depths of his misconception and how best to correct him, anxiety prickling up her spine and culminating in a stabbing pain at the base of her skull.

"Boyd…," she began after several moments, rubbing a weary hand across her eyes as she felt him sigh deeply beside her.

"Look, Grace, I didn't mean to pry…."

"It's not that." She paused, shifting slightly to look at him. "You really think this is how I would tell you if all of that were true?"

Boyd raised an eyebrow. "You're_ not_ thinking of retiring?"

"No, I am. I meant the rest of it."

A shadow of a smile passed across his face. "I know you did."

"So…?"

His responding sigh was heavy, ponderous. "I don't know, Grace, alright? You mentioned being beholden to someone and I just assumed…."

"Well, that's just the point; you leapt in with your assumption without waiting for the facts."

"Story of my life."

"Your words, not mine."

"So, what are you saying, Grace? You're just going to up sticks and settle in a foreign country by yourself?"

"Well...it depends."

"On?"

"For lack of a better word?" She sighed, uncertainty flickering through the depths of her sapphire eyes. "Factors."

"Such as?" Boyd rolled his eyes irritably at her reticence, her uncharacteristic reluctance unsettling him. "Come on, Grace; stop being so bloody evasive."

"It's not deliberate, Boyd. I'm just trying to find the best way to phrase it."

"Well, just do what I do; it's not difficult…."

"What? Open my mouth and worry about engaging my brain at a later date?"

He grinned boyishly. "Yeah."

_Oh my God, am I really going to do this…?_ Grace took a sobering breath, allowing the air to enhance her lungs, diffusing a sense of calm into her bloodstream in spite of her suddenly pounding heart, aware that his light-hearted smile had faded beneath the solemnity she knew she was projecting.

"Come with me," she intoned eventually, the invitation leaving her body in a soft exhalation, the words drifting through the tranquil air between them, an odd sense of relief that she had finally found the bravery to voice them overwhelming her despite her defences instinctively rising in anticipation of his reply.

"What?" he asked incredulously before he could stop himself, shock rippling through his chest at the completely unforeseen and unexpected nature of her words, his heart beginning to thump harder against his ribcage as he allowed them to echo about his bones, to settle against the edges of his consciousness.

She sighed, steeling her heart for inevitable mortification but forcing herself to meet his gaze. "Come with me," she repeated evenly, feeling her stomach clench at the unreadable expression in his dark eyes.

He felt the breath leave his body in a rush, at once overwhelmed by the proposition she was making, the undeniable invitation to share her life in a deeply real sense, a decade of tension, of invisible boundaries melting dramatically before his eyes as he looked at the woman who had given all of herself to him and had never asked for anything in reciprocation. She had been at his side throughout the turbulent mire of his middle years; the loss of Mel, the death of his son, the anguish of his self-loathing, guilt and despair, and despite their vitriolic clashes he was well aware of the depth of feeling that ran the length and breadth of their enduring friendship.

He looked across at her now, noting the unease, the tempered hope she was trying desperately to conceal beneath her well-practiced mask, and he inhaled slowly, deliberately, hints of her perfume threading through his senses and providing a pleasantly heady rush to his heart. There was no doubt that she was solely responsible for the lingering remnants of his sanity and that he owed her more than he was capable of repaying but he had never allowed the possibility of a deeper connection with her to be consciously acknowledged, afraid that he would inevitably hurt her, that he would end up unintentionally sabotaging their relationship through his own selfishness, and the risk of losing her as a friend had always in the past seemed too great.

That he felt intense emotion for her was not in question, he mused as he felt her stiffen at his side, aware that she was in all likelihood misinterpreting his lingering silence as embarrassed negativity; he had always felt drawn to her, attracted by an intoxicating combination of intellect, confidence and eloquence, although admittedly he had been undeniably slower in appreciating her physically. That had come several years down the line, hitting him squarely and powerfully in the chest when she had arrived at the office one morning sporting a stylish new haircut and radically different clothing, which accentuated every nuance, every curve of her feminine form, and he had had to remind himself at regular intervals not to stare. The sudden realisation of her as an attractive woman had floored him but he had forced it to the recesses of his mind, sublimating his erotically wanton fantasies with a renewed commitment to his work and convincing himself of the futility of such feelings in the context of their long-standing and complicated friendship. The years had progressed and the feelings had settled, the waxing and waning nature of their relationship reinforcing his opinion that anything more than friendship would be too dangerous a risk. _And, now? Now that we're both moving into a new phase of our lives? Now that we're in a position to know where we've been and what we want...?_

He sighed gently, a sense of peace filtering through his soul as his mind settled intuitively on an answer, forcing his lingering doubts to the pit of his gut, and he turned around to face the river, his body position matching hers as he reached for her hand. He smiled at her soft gasp of surprise, the slight twitch of her shoulders as he interlaced their fingers together, his thumb caressing her knuckles before tracing the delicate skin of her wrist, marvelling at the undeniably sensuous experience of learning the landscape of her hand.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer, Pairing, Content, Rating & Spoilers**: See Chapter 1.

**A/N**: Thank you to everyone who has read & reviewed this story - I don't think it's my finest work but I hope you all still enjoy this concluding part x

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><p>"And do what exactly, Grace?" Boyd asked gently, once he could trust himself to speak anew, feeling his pulse quicken as their fingers slid easily over each other's, alternately separating and interlacing as they traversed the previously unexplored physical territory . "I can't really see either of us sitting around all day on a beach somewhere, can you?"<p>

Grace smiled slightly, relief exploding through every inch of her body at his quiet acceptance of her suggestion, and she squeezed his hand, trying desperately to ignore the crackling electricity pulsing along her nerve-endings as she revelled beneath his long overdue ministrations. She took a shuddering breath to steady herself before speaking again.

"Well...there's always research I need to do, as well as papers et cetera to write." Her smile broadened playfully. "How do you feel about being my assistant?"

He groaned theatrically. "I'd rather sit in a darkened room and stick pins in my eyes."

She shrugged, amused by his characteristic flair for melodrama. "Suit yourself, then."

He nudged her shoulder and rolled his eyes, though his fingers continued to toy tenderly with hers. "Seriously, Grace; what the hell would I do with myself all day while you're busy exercising the Ph.D.?"

"Well, you'd just have to find a hobby, wouldn't you?"

He scoffed derisively. "Such as?"

She smirked, her sapphire eyes sparkling teasingly. "Oh, I don't know, Boyd. How about golf? Or bowls?"

"And we're back to sticking pins in my eyes."

"Write your memoirs, then."

"Oh, please." He blew out a dismissive breath, though he was fully aware that she was goading him. "How long do you think it would be before I threw my computer out the nearest window?"

"I'd give you less than a day."

"So, come on, then; that's four suggestions I've blown clear out of the water."

She inclined her head, her expression sobering. "Alright; being serious? How about starting your own investigative consultancy company?"

"To take my mind off my so-called career, you mean?" His voice was thickly laced with sarcasm.

"Come on; you've had a good career, Boyd."

"I still don't like the use of the past tense, Grace."

"I know you don't. But, all joking aside, consultancy might be a way for you to continue to exercise your analytical skills and…."

"No." His tone was decisive, unwavering as it silenced her mid-stride.

"No?"

"Something to do with needing a clean break. Whatever I end up doing it needs to be something as far removed from policing and security as possible."

Grace felt her mouth fall open. "You're joking."

"I've never been more serious, Grace."

She shook her head incredulously. "As laudable as it sounds, Boyd…it might be harder to break the habit than you realise."

"Because of my obsessive personality?"

"Well, not just that. You've been a copper for more than thirty years; it's who you are, it's…."

"I know that. I don't think I could have done anything else with my life but, equally…I think it's fair to say that the job, or at least my dedication to it, has been partially responsible for my less than perfect private life, wouldn't you?"

"And you don't want to be reminded of that aspect of it?"

"I want to make sure I don't repeat the same mistakes again. I know consultancy wouldn't be the same…but, even so."

She smiled, his words sending thrills rippling warmly through her heart. "That's…good to hear, Boyd."

"Of course that still leaves us with the problem of what the hell I'm going to spend my days doing wherever it is we end up."

Grace smiled playfully. "Well…maybe you should use your imagination and stop leaving me to do all of your thinking for you."

He grinned wolfishly, images exploding behind his eyes as he envisaged her bent across a desk in concentration, her papers spread out before her, her body alluringly concealed beneath floatingly thin fabrics, his hands tracing the curves of her hips. "Not a problem," he intoned huskily. "Although what I have in mind might mean you never get around to writing those damn books..."

Grace stifled a gasp as she turned her head to look at him, the barely concealed lust simmering in his dark eyes, and she felt butterflies beginning to take wing throughout her stomach. "You'd have to explain it to my publisher."

"I think I could manage that."

He leant towards her then, his heart swelling at the dazzling brightness of her smile, and he brushed his lips across hers, pulling back for the briefest of moments before claiming her mouth once more, swallowing her soft sigh as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding easily over hers as she readily permitted his access. He felt his expression sober as he pulled away after several indulgent moments more, forcing himself to break their connection despite the addictive sensation of her lips beneath his, the intoxicating taste of her in his mouth.

"Are you absolutely sure about this?" he asked quietly, releasing her hand so he could caress her cheek softly, a sudden need for reassurance pervading his consciousness.

"Boyd...," she sighed, unconsciously leaning into his palm, the breath escaping her lungs unbidden as his thumb stroked tiny circles across her skin.

"I mean it," he said firmly, despite the tender movements of his body. "I don't want to bring you down, Grace. I know I'm not an easy person to be around and I..."

"I wouldn't have mentioned it if I wasn't sure." She laughed softly. "Do you really think I don't know what I'm letting myself in for after all these years?"

"It's not the same. We've never lived together before."

"Well, as good as."

They smiled simultaneously, each remembering the echoes of a conversation from years previously, before the contemplative state between them resumed.

"Seriously," he said, his hand slipping to the back of her neck to toy with her hair. "I'm a selfish, obnoxious pain in the arse..."

"I know that..."

"I can be a complete prick when I don't get my own way; a controlling, domineering, obsessive prick."

"I know that too. You're not giving me any new information here, you know."

"I'm up to my ears in baggage, Grace."

"And you don't think I am?" She sighed. "Boyd, I've been basically single for more than twenty years. I've raised three children more or less single-handedly. I've built a career that's been defining for me but that's also cost me dearly. And even leaving all of those things aside...baggage is par for the course by the time you get to our age, isn't it? The difference is that I'm not going into this blind."

"Maybe we know each other too well."

"Is that possible?"

He smiled crookedly. "It means there'll be no hiding places for my demons."

"There doesn't need to be with me."

He felt bliss flood his soul at her reassuring words and he bent to kiss her anew, the merest caress of her lips with his before pulling away once more. "I can't promise I won't hurt you," he whispered hoarsely as his eyes locked intensely with hers. "I wish that I could...but I can't."

"Well...I think I'm old enough to know the risks, don't you?"

"You deserve better."

She swallowed the suddenly cloying lump in her throat. "What are you saying, Boyd?"

"I'm saying..." He broke off and sighed heavily, confusion etching itself once more into his mind. "I'm not saying 'no'..."

"But?"

"But I'm not sure I can say 'yes' right now, either. At least not until I've gone some way towards getting my head together."

"So all that before...What was that?"

"That was me wanting to...give in. To stop fighting." He shook his head. "But the more I think about it, the more I don't think I can subject you to it, Grace."

She sighed shakily. "I'm a grown-up, Boyd. I'm more than capable of making my own decisions and I..."

"I don't want to be responsible for fucking up the rest of your life..."

"And what makes you so bloody sure that you would be?"

He exhaled noisily. "Because this is me we're talking about here. I just don't want you to invite me into your life without…"

"What? Considering the likely consequences?" She barked a short laugh. "Give me some credit, Boyd."

"So you admit you think it'll all end in disaster, then?"

"Did I say that?"

"Likely consequences, Grace. It means the same thing."

"Of course it doesn't." She sighed once more, frustration lancing through her chest at his natural gravitation towards fatalism. "Look, Boyd, I'm not talking about leaving tomorrow…."

"But I'm guessing you do have some kind of timescale in mind?"

"Not necessarily; I've got plenty to organise and loose ends to tie up with the Home Office. It could be months before anything gets finalised."

He ran a hand roughly through his hair. "Grace…."

She turned partially to face him, laying a soothing palm against his chest. "It's fine, Peter. I agree that you need time to sort yourself out before you can work out what you want long term."

He shifted beside her to lean back once more against the barrier, an anguished sigh rattling through his chest. "Jesus, Grace. Right now I'm not sure I can think beyond tonight, let alone long term."

She gave him a lop-sided smile, content to settle closely at his side, the Thames to their backs. "So let's just start with tonight, then, and worry about the rest of it when it comes."

He raised an eyebrow before stretching to wrap an arm about her waist, pressing his lips to her hair, trying desperately to quell the organic response of his body to her words. "No over-analysing?"

"From either of us?"

"Yeah."

"It's a deal."

He squeezed her waist to encourage her movement as he pulled away from their standing position, his hand remaining firmly nestled in the curve of her side as they began walking from beneath the bridge, unable to prevent a slow smile from spreading across his features as he felt her own arm slip around his middle. She was, and had always been, he mused, a healing balm to the fractured shards of his soul and despite his agonising uncertainty about the future, his perpetual guilt about the past, he was grateful to the very depths of his being for her constant and unwavering presence in his life. The realisation flooded his senses with warmth, with hope as they continued further away from Waterloo Bridge and towards their previously untravelled and unknown road.

FIN


End file.
